Waking Dream
by smaragdbird
Summary: Post-Thor Clint really wants to go to Las Vegas. Phil gives in. They should've known what would happen.


"Come on, Phil, it will be fun!"

"You and I have very different ideas of what fun is."

"We can relax, drink, gamble and you don't even need to worry about Fury who doesn't expect us back until the day after tomorrow. It's perfect."

"No."

"Please? I didn't even shoot the guy who broke in to steal the hammer."

"I'm not going to reward you for following orders."

"One night, give me just one night", Clint started to sing, nudging Phil in the ribs. "You're supposed to sing along, you know."

"I'm burning your Moulin Rouge DVD's."

"One night in the name of love-"

"Alright, alright but you're driving tomorrow. I don't care how hung-over you are."

Clint grinned. "Knew I was your favourite."

Phil raised an eyebrow at him but otherwise didn't dignify that comment with an answer.

/

Clint woke up to a phone ringing. Half-asleep he grabbed the offendingly loud thing and pressed the green button. If this was Phil telling him to get up and be ready to drive them home he was going to kill him.

"Yeah?"

"Good morning, Agent Barton. Is Agent Coulson already awake?"

Fuck, Fury.

"Yes, Agent Barton, anything you might want to tell me?" And he might have said the last words out loud.

"No, sir", Clint replied and finally opened his eyes. The room was a mess with kicked over furniture and thrown clothes and Phil was, still blissfully asleep, curled up next to him.

"Fuck", Clint said.

"You're being repetitive", Fury said into his ear.

"Give me a second", Clint told him and pressed the phone against his chest. "Phil? Phil, wake up, it's Fury."

Thankfully years in the field together took over when Clint woke him up and Phil was awake in the matter of seconds. He gave Clint a slightly confused look and took the phone from him.

"Director Fury?" Phil asked, sounding as professional as if they were in his office and Clint was just lounging on Phil's couch instead of sitting next to him in a hotel bed in Las Vegas.

"Of course, boss. I understand. No casualties, sir."

Did he mention that they were both naked and Clint definitely had a couple bite marks on his arms and he could see a hickey on Phil's neck.

Too bad he didn't remember that.

"Since when do you listen to the rumour mill, Nick?" Phil asked and laughed.

Clint couldn't decide between shivering in pleasure at that laugh and gawking because he was pretty sure he had just heard Phil referring to Fury by his first name and the world hadn't collapsed.

Deciding that he either needed a shower or more alcohol, or both really, Clint climbed out of the bed. For his sanity's sake he ignored Phil blatantly checking him out and picked up a piece of paper lying on the floor.

It was his and Phil's marriage certificate dated from last night.

They had turned their trip into a real cliché, didn't they?

He held the certificate out for Phil to see who was still on the phone with Fury.

Phil rolled his eyes and made a shooing motion towards the shower.

Clint tried not to take it personal. When he stood under the spray he tried to think of a way to save his friendship with Phil from this mess. Not that he would have minded anything that would have ended with him and Phil in front of the altar. He and Natasha had even made detailed plans but he doubted that a drunken Vegas marriage was the way to Phil's heart.

"Since when do you call Fury by his first name?" Clint asked when he came back because it seemed to be the safer topic at the moment.

"I've known him for longer than Natasha is alive", Phil replied. He frowned at the marriage certificate as if it was a particularly offending piece of paperwork.

It became harder and harder not to take it personally.

"So what are we gonna do?"

"Shower and then we leave. Your little amusement trip already cost us more than enough time", Phil said as if they were discussing mission parameters. The slight scowl he directed at Clint told him not to question it.

There was probably a form at Shield that dealt with accidental drunken Vegas marriages.

Nothing personal at all.

/

Once they reached the car, Phil made him take the backseat and handed him a bottle of orange juice and a sachet of painkillers.

"I'd rather not die today", he said dryly when he saw Clint's surprised face.

Well, Clint thought as he was dozing away on the backseat, he might have ruined any chance he had with the man of his dreams but at least Phil wasn't an arsehole about it.

/

It had to be afternoon when he woke up. For a moment he did nothing but stare at the sky from the window until Phil asked, "Hungry?" and Clint sat up.

"Did Fury give us a mission?" He asked.

"Not yet, we're driving back Malibu and hitch a flight from there. Natasha wants to collect her pay off", Phil replied nonchalantly.

Clint gave him a bemused look that Phil answered with an expression somewhere between fond and exasperated.

"If last night hadn't happened would you have made a move before or after my retirement?"

Oh.

Clint felt a blush spreading over his face. "Why didn't you?" He asked defensively.

"I have a bet with Natasha how long you would hold out."

"That traitorous, back-stabbing, two-faced, double-dealing wench", Clint muttered under his breath. Out loud he asked, "So whose bet was ruined by last night?"

"Mine", Phil admitted", but I'm inclined not to hold it against you."

"Me?" Clint sputtered, "I wasn't the only one who was drunk last night!"

Phil said nothing but the glint in his eye gave him away.

"You…you planned this?"

"Not plan. I simply went along with your very insistent suggestions." He laughed at Clint's expression for which Clint didn't know whether to swat at him or kiss him.

"Does that still mean we have to get back to base?" He asked instead to give himself some time to make his decision.

"Yes, also I believe it's your turn to drive." He stopped the car on a sideline.

"Does that mean I get to pick the music?" Clint asked as they changed seats.

Phil gave him a look that clearly said "what do you think" and Clint sighed.

"How much longer?"

"Five, six hours. Any speeding tickets will be paid from your wage." Phil said, bundling up his suit jacket against the side of the passenger door.

"Admit it though, "Clint said after a while. "Vegas was fun."

Phil didn't answer but the smile playing around the corners of his lips was as good as a yes.


End file.
